The Night Before

Stress is winding me up like D.'s guitar strings on that old Martin of his.  Keep turning that tuning key, and sooner or later, even metal snaps....

I went to get lunch for the family today at a local Quizno's.  On the interstate, there was a terrible wreck.  A pickup truck had overturned somehow, completely flipped and crushed the front portion of the cab.  I don't know if the people inside survived or not.  I can't see how they did, if they did.  It was in the eastbound lane and I was headed west.  It had happened not long before I came through.  I cried the whole way to get the food.  Nobody should die on I-20 on a sunny Sunday afternoon.  Or any other time.

I know I'm on edge because of Dad's surgery tomorrow.  Everything has been putting me on the verge of tears:  those poor unknown people in that truck, the last prayer at church tonight when they unexpectedly mentioned Daddy by name, everything. 

I played "I Must Tell Jesus" for my offertory, and every note of it was the truth, every note of it was a prayer.  I cannot bear these burdens alone.  In a few hours, I'll be getting up to start this new day, whatever this new day is going to be.  I'll have to get my mask out, dust it off, and put it on very carefully for the rest of my family and for all the strangers who will be around.  It will be a massive effort of ignoring elephants made of worry standing in the middle of tiny rooms.  It's all I know to do. 

Time to try to sleep.